T.A. Frank is the editor of Zócalo Public Square. Before moderating a conversation in Phoenix with Matthew Guerrieri about Beethoven’s Fifth and genius, he talked Danish cheese and Danish advice (he’s half-Danish) and what happens when he breaks out Barbra Streisand at karaoke bars (hint: it’s uncomfortable) in the Zócalo green room.
What cheese best embodies your personality?
Danbo. It’s a Danish cheese, and you can’t get it over here. It’s really plain and reliable. [Laughs.]
What’s the last album you bought?
Oh God. I don’t remember. I buy songs, I don’t buy albums.
How about the last song?
I bought a cover by The Walkmen of “Fly Into The Mystery” by Jonathan Richman.
What’s your cocktail of choice?
The Manhattan on the rocks.
If you could speak one more language, which would you choose?
Spanish. I shouldn’t even admit that I don’t speak Spanish.
What’s the strangest job you’ve ever had?
Present one excluded? I worked in a really weird radio publicity company called Frank Promotion in New York. No relation. I tried to convince people that they should run stories on topics no sane person would ever do a story on.
Why do you go by your initials?
Let’s face it: Thomas Frank came first. Before T.A. Frank, there was Thomas Frank. But we had a détente at Zócalo headquarters.
If you could set any Guinness World Record, which would you choose?
Just one record? I can’t say wealthiest and most revered? Maybe longest time spent in a shower.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?
“Shun advice at any price; that’s what I call good advice.” That’s by Piet Hien. He’s a Danish polymath. Not that I listen to it or live by it myself
What’s your go-to karaoke song?
“Putting It Together,” the Barbra Streisand version. It always leads to awkward silences.
